Dean didn't exactly know where he was driving, but Sherlock pointed out which roads to take. He didn't know how Sherlock knew where he was going. Maybe it was just incredibly good guesswork. Sherlock demanded the music in the impala be turned down and that there was to be complete silence so he could think. This didn't really please Dean one bit. As he moved his hand over to the radio to turn it up, Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"Stop. I'm thinking." Sherlock turned and watched out the window. Dean sighed and began tapping on the steering wheel. Sherlock shot Dean an angry glare.

"So where are we going?" Dean asked Sherlock. Sherlock peered out the windscreen.

"To find the angel." Sherlock quietly said. He leaned back in his chair and pressed his hands together as if he was praying. His sleeves fell back to reveal a nicotine patch.

"Smoker, huh?" Dean muttered and concentrated on the road. Sherlock laughed.

"No, not a smoker. The nicotine helps me think." Sherlock closed his eyes, "Trying to guess my life now, are we?" Sherlock mumbled and Dean scoffed. This Sherlock guy was way too good. It made Dean uncomfortable.

"How'd you know. Honestly, how did you know all those things about me?" Dean asked angrily. He didn't like feeling insecure. Usually it was go in, get the job done, and save Sam, because he usually had to save Sam. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, from time to time Sam had to save him, too.

"It's easy. But do you really want to know? I don't want you to kick me out of your car." Sherlock chuckled. Dean was getting impatient.

"Come on man. I've never met you before in my life, and the next thing is you're telling me my life story. Of course I want to know." Dean looked at Sherlock. He wondered if Sherlock was secretly a demon.

"Okay then. It's clearly obvious that you love your brother very much, you follow him around and he follows you around. You both know what each other are thinking when you exchange glances, and you're brothers so of course you love each other. You can be too protective obviously because you're the oldest, the way you talk to him like he is little and when you first saw me you positioned yourself so that you shielded him. Now your father. The way you talk and fight, you didn't learn it from an Army, you've never been to one. You've been trained differently, from your father. You are wearing a leather jacket that hangs off your body oddly, wasn't bought for you. It's not your brother's because he doesn't wear leather. It couldn't be anyone else's but your father. But why doesn't he wear the jacket? Simple, because he's dead. You wear it to commemorate your father, to be your father. You're awaiting orders from your father. It's easy to guess that you live in your car and go from hotel to hotel, because of the dry shampoo in your hair and the way you've missed spots whilst shaving. You can't bend properly in the car to look in the rearview mirror to see those spots. I knew you drove a vintage car because I saw you get out of it when I was at the window. An impala, very nice. And last but not least, your love for the Angel in the trench coat. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. You want to be a mans man, you sleep with lots of women, obviously, judging by your aftershave and your body is kept immaculate. Are you covering up your homosexual feelings for the angel? My guess is yes, but you do also love women. Just tell the angel because he reciprocates the feelings for you." Sherlock finally stopped.

He smirked, proud of his observations. Dean coughed awkwardly. He was absolutely stunned. This strange Englishmen just picked at everything that made Dean, Dean. Sherlock looked over to Dean.

"Surprised?" Sherlock asked. Dean agreed.

"A little, yeah." Dean cleared his throat. He just wanted to get out of the car. He was worried that Sherlock would be watching his every move, guessing more and more about his life.

"You've seen a lot, Dean. How you stay sane surprises even me." Sherlock stated quietly and motioned for him to turn into the state park. Dean glared at Sherlock once he parked the impala inside the iron gates.

"Please, whatever you're doing, stop. We're on a case. We need to be focused on the case." Dean got out of the impala.

"Oh your little minds focusing on the one thing. How I envy you." Sherlock chuckled, "Now. Let's find the angel."

The two men set off into the park cautiously.